I'm tired of working in the coffin factoryI want the boss to give my life back to meMy paycheck's not big enough to wipe my tearsForty hours a week of monotonyMy thoughts get caught in the cogs of machineryDroning death songs in my earsAnd when I pass two lovers in the hospitalI wonder if selling flowers might be more profitableI don't want to build coffins no moreTired of working in a coffin factoryBuilding boxes to bury humanityWith wood cut from the trees of libertyI'm gonna walk backwards out the gates of this dreary plantYou can't pick the pocket of a man who's got no pantsThey've taken all they'll get from meAnd when I breathe my last breathI will not breathe it as a merchant of deathI don't want to build coffins no more
